


Tempo

by ShudderShock



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Afterlife, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-26 14:00:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9901829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShudderShock/pseuds/ShudderShock
Summary: The atmosphere of Afterlife inspires Shepard and Garrus to cross the line.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Tempo
> 
> Author: Shudder Shock (http://afterlife-club.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Pairing: Garrus Vakarian/Female Shepard
> 
> Summary: The atmosphere of Afterlife inspires Shepard and Garrus to cross the line. 
> 
>  Rating: Mature.
> 
> Disclaimer: Characters © BioWare. 
> 
> A/N: A quick, naughty one-shot that I just couldn’t get out of my head. I just love Omega, and Afterlife is my favorite place in the whole series.
> 
> +++

Commander Shepard had no business on Omega, and she certainly didn’t have any business at the Afterlife Club. The arranged meeting with Aria T’Loak— the stations dominate ruler— had kept her longer than she’d wanted, and Shepard was eager to leave. 

But, when Garrus suggested they grab a quick drink before departing, Shepard found it hard to deny his friendly request. And Aria, it seemed, was in a strangely gracious mood. “Drinks and services are on the house,” she said, as they walked away from her grand, illuminated balcony. Feminine silhouettes danced around the ruler of Omega, projected and magnified to truly large-than-life entertainment for the numerous patrons grinding on the floors below. The dirty rhythm of bass vibrated the air, melding with clouds of carnality. The atmosphere reeked of unadulterated sex, pleasure, and ever-present danger.

It was a sinful place, and one that Garrus navigated surprisingly well. He easily slid up to the bar on the main level and managed to order drinks for the both of them, over all the boisterous music and foul-mouthed clients. Garrus directed them to a small booth tucked neatly under one of the balconies. It was dark, like most of the corners in the club, with strobe lights periodically flickering a vivid spectrum of colors. He let Shepard slide into the spot closest to the wall. Shepard smiled; Garrus knew she appreciated the extra cover. The tall turian than settled in next to her, and they clanked their glasses together.

The whiskey was a warm line down her throat, and it pooled comfortably in her stomach. By the time they finished with their first drink, a server was strutting over to collect their empty glasses and replacing them with full ones. It was mid-way through their second glass that a pretty, scantily-clad asari maiden slinked over to their table; one of the entertainers that Afterlife was so notorious for. She didn’t say a word, or hesitate when she stepped up on to their table with smooth sexuality, and heels so tall that Shepard thought she’d break an ankle any minute. She dropped to her knees, the strobes highlighting the barely covered crease between her thighs, and heaving sapphire breasts. She rolled her pelvis to the bass of the music, then leaned forward to touch Shepard’s cheek. Shepard caught the scent of smoke and vanilla from her fingertips.

“You two are such a cute couple,” the asari said with a breathy quality. “A human and turian together— it can’t help but make me _wonder_.” Her words were scripted flattery said numerous times. “Aria said anything you want is on the house, _anything_ …”

It was subtle, but a proposition was there. 

Shepard risked a brief glace at Garrus, and was pleased by what she saw. Mandibles clenched taut and bright blue eyes glaring—his expression was the very definition of unimpressed. Briefly, Shepard had felt apprehensive. Obviously, _they_ were not going to have a threesome with this attractive blue alien, but that didn’t mean Garrus couldn’t have taken the asari up on her offer, to enjoy an encounter by himself.

That fear never came to pass. Instead, Garrus skipped the explanation that he and Shepard were not, in fact, a couple. “We’re not interested in what you’re selling,” he said firmly, and pushed her hand off Shepard. The asari was beginning to play with collar of her N7 armor.

Garrus looked so irritated. Prostitution was legal as long as the sex worker consented to it, but leave it to Garrus to still be deeply annoyed by the oldest profession in the galaxy.

“Really?” the dancer giggled, running her hands lightly over her flat midsection, and firm legs. Shepard doubted this lady got rejected much, and was now in full seduction mode. “I’m not selling anything, baby.” Shepard knew by the twitch in Garrus’ mandible that he was getting pissed. He took on a particularly surly expression at being referred to as _baby_. 

“Get out of here, sweetheart,” said Shepard, waving her hand at the woman, directing the dancer's attention back over to her. 

The dismissal must have meant more coming from Shepard.

The dancer pouted her full, painted lips. “ _Fine_ ,” she huffed. “I see you don’t want to share.” She turned, making a big show of slowly walking away from them, thong hiding no part of her round ass.

Shepard, finding the whole interaction quite humorous, started to laugh, once the asari was out of earshot.

Garrus rolled his eyes, but finally relaxed. He stretched next to her, resting his arm behind Shepard’s head in the booth. He did that from time to time when they were alone, and sitting next to each other. Shepard liked it— found it to be sweet— even if that wasn’t his intention. There were even instances when Garrus would put his hand on her shoulder and pull her a little closer, but those moments often involved a great deal of alcohol. 

He always smelled so nice.

Shepard glanced down at the table. Another set of empty glasses. They were already three drinks in, and the Afterlife prided itself on heavy pours. Now, the same server was walking back to them with a tray of refills.

 _Damn you, Aria_ , thought Shepard, as she took a sip of her fresh drink. Her eyes darted up to the balcony where Aria resided. The Queen of Omega was leaning across it, and Shepard swore that Aria tipped her own glass in their direction. 

Garrus softly drummed his fingertips into her pauldron. “You have to be blunt with them, or they’ll never leave you alone,” he said, referring to the entertainers.

“I can see that,” acknowledged Shepard, not really caring either way. She'd little issue with the dancers, or the failed proposition, though it was clearly still bothering Garrus.

“They bring in a lot of revenue for Aria. She likes for them to be aggressive,” he continued irritated, and in the mood to be judgemental.

“I’m a little surprised you’re so familiar with this place, Garrus. Doesn’t seem like your type of scene,” said Shepard, trying to steer him away from this heated topic. She was surprised that he even wanted to linger here for multiple cocktails. It would’ve been just as easy to grab a bottle and go back to the Normandy. The Afterlife was just too… sleazy for the former C-Sec officer.

“It’s not,” Garrus carefully explained. “But, Afterlife is one of the only places to get a drink on Omega. When things got… really bad, I came here often enough.” 

Shepard didn’t pry beyond that. Really bad, didn’t even come close to describing what Garrus went through on Omega. Shepard’s heart sank at his personal tragedy, and the desire to comfort him overtook her. She wrapped her arm around his waist, sinking into him. He didn’t say anything, but she felt him looking at her. Shepard caught him doing that, more often than not these days. Garrus put his large hand on her shoulder— like she knew would eventually happen— creating a whirlwind of mixed emotions in Shepard. She was thrilled at being so close to Garrus, but it was disappointing too. They wouldn’t stay like this much longer, if past experience was any indicator. One, or both of them would soon lose nerve, doomed to forever be trapped in the others friend-zone.

Shepard rolled her head against the crook of his arm and chest. She sighed.

“Sorry, did you not me to shoo her away?” Garrus suddenly asked. He was referring to the dancer.

Shepard raised her eyebrow at his question. 

It had come out of nowhere.

“ _What_?” Shepard exclaimed. “No, I told her to leave too.” 

“You just seemed disappointed, all of a sudden,” Garrus said innocently. “I guess I should've asked if you wanted her… _services_.” 

He had some audacity suggesting that, while she was leaning against him so affectionately. 

Was he teasing her? 

He had to be— sarcastic smart-ass that he was. 

She didn’t bother hiding the exasperation in her voice, “While the last time I got laid was underwhelming— at best—I’m hardly interested in some dancer from Omega," Shepard grumbled out. "But we could get her back over here if that’s what you want.” Her statement sounded terrible defensive, but then again, that's because it was. 

“That’s not really what I’m into,” Garrus simply proclaimed, but Shepard could tell she ruffled his feathers. Maybe he only liked turian girls, and Shepard had been dead wrong all this time, and there wasn’t a mutual attraction between them. It’s not like she could really read his face. 

Never one to miss the opportunity to get in the last word, Garrus offhandedly commented, “How unfortunate for you, that the last time you got screwed was so mediocre.”

Shepard knew his tactic, but still took the bait. 

She always did when they bickered.

And, the alcohol had substantially loosened her tongue. “Not only was it mediocre, but it was over two years ago," Shepard fussed. "But does time count when you’ve been dead?” She didn’t give him time to answer, so focused on her rant. It was coming from a place of sexual frustration, and she knew it. Even so, Shepard continued her complaining, and wallowed in malcontent. “Right before we landed on IIos— remember how high the stress was?" Garrus just nodded in acknowledgment. He was watching her with curious eyes. 

"I just wanted some nice, causal sex—nothing serious." Garrus tipped his head to the side, like he was very interested in what she was about to say. "I was completely upfront with Alenko about it. But, I’ll be damn if he didn’t go get attached to me. And, that’s just not what I was looking for.”

Garrus pulled a face of abhorrence, mandibles tight and his bright blue eyes narrow. His grip on her shoulder tightened too. “Well, that does explain his reaction to you on Horizon," he finally said. "But, why Alenko, Shepard?” Garrus asked, clearly annoyed.

Shepard pondered it, and then replied, “He was available. Who else could I’ve asked?”

Garrus swirled his glass, the ice cubes clinking together. Shepard recognized his look. Garrus was contemplating. After a moment of deliberation, Garrus said something quite revolutionary, “You could've asked me, Shepard.”

Her heartrate skyrocketed and she nearly dropped her glass.

Was he being serious?

“I didn’t realize that you were an option, Garrus,” Shepard sputtered.

His mandibles flared out, and Shepard swore she heard a purr coming from his subvocals, “Maybe, you should've asked, and found out.”

“You never seemed interested,” Shepard gawked at him. “And besides, I thought you weren’t into aliens!” In frustration, she whipped her hand over to where the asari dancer was; she had captured the interests of a turian. The dancer was in the process of placing her perky blue tits right in his face. He was leaning into them with great enthusiasm.

Garrus looked over to the direction Shepard’s hand was pointed.

“No,” Garrus stated. Shepard could tell he was smirking. “I meant that I wasn’t interested in asari prostitutes. Or any prostitutes, in general.” He downed his drink, finishing it. “Shepard, if you want to work off that sort of stress… I'd be up to help you blow off some steam. We can keep it as casual as you’d like.”

 _Blow off steam_ , Shepard swallowed a chuckle. It was charming, awkward, and so terribly Garrus. What a polite way of saying, _I’d more than happy to fuck you_. 

But this was, nonetheless, a different side of him. Garrus had never been so blunt before, not in regards to something like this. And if he thought anything they did would be casual, then he was just kidding himself.

Wait, was he drunk?

Garrus seemed perfectly sober.

Her own inhibitions were swimming, and Garrus put his hand just above her knee to test the waters. When did he move so close to her face? She could feel his breath on her skin. Shepard didn’t want this to end up like so many other late-night interactions alone in the Main Battery where they were so damn close to doing… something— only for the both of them to back off at the last second, with weak laughter and even weaker excuses.

Waiting, hesitating, anticipating.

It was the tempo of their relationship.

But, she needed him; could feel her pulse quicken around him.

Garrus made her feel lively in such a way that Shepard only expected from a battleground blitz.

This was as close as they'd ever come to quenching the thirst that left the both of them dry-mouthed since their reunion; friendship shifting into attraction and then into desire so smoothly neither noticed it. Shepard wasn’t a fool; she knew he felt it. He had too. And after all they’d been through together, would it really be so bad to just close the damn distance between their mouths and see what would happen?

His hand on her leg shifted, his fingers moving inward, interrupting her thoughts.

Garrus was still making that sound in his throat. “You’re really being serious about this, aren’t you?” Shepard’s voice came out smoother than she could’ve hoped, with no hint of desperation.

Garrus answered by firmly pressing his strange, flat mouth to hers with a passion that spoke of the same barely contained feelings that Shepard herself felt. The only response that he deserved for this daring, wordless confession was a confession of Shepard’s own, delivered via her tongue. She pushed it into his mouth, loving how he immediately returned the deepened kiss, loving how he tasted, and loving how… forbidden this seemed. It wasn’t like kissing another human; his teeth were sharp, the texture of his tongue rough.

His unoccupied hand cupped her cheek affectionately, yet possessively.

She felt her vulva throb, and clit swell. Shepard was already wet in her hardsuit; she’d never gotten so aroused by a single kiss before. Garrus could have bent her over, fucked her without any other foreplay, and Shepard was confident that she could have taken every inch of him with no resistance.

Vaguely, she heard the pounding downbeat of Afterlife over the blood rushing around in her own ears. They needed to get out of here, before she pulled his cock out and rode him in the dark, small booth. Shepard broke the kiss, only to have Garrus tilt his head and lean in again for another aggressively. Shepard hadn’t the will to refuse, and let him dip his tongue slowly and suggestively into her mouth once again. She knew exactly what motion he was mimicking with this kiss. Shepard pulled away, determined this time.

“Alright… I’m game," Shepard muttered against his jaw. "Let’s go back to the Normandy, and…"

“Let’s go in there,” Garrus interrupted— his own voice strained— and tipped his head over to an empty private room across the dancefloor. He only moved his face a fraction, letting her lips stay where they were. His hand was still creeping up her thigh, and she couldn’t help but spread her legs, daring his fingers to go higher. They did. Shepard glanced to where he indicated, and was treated to the view of the stripper from earlier, now dancing between the knees of her turian client. Her movements were serpentine, fluid and memorizing.

“Can you move like that, Shepard?” Garrus teased in her ear, low and husky.

He damn well knew she couldn’t dance, and the idea of her stripping was ludicrous.

But she smiled at his flirtation anyway, and grabbed the hand that was on the junction of her inner thigh and groin. She pulled him past the asari, now grinding her pelvis against the lap of poor turian, who sat with his hands gripping the armrests of his chair.

The Afterlife Club's strict _No Touching!_ policy had drained many a poor patron's credit account, and Shepard wondered how long it would take before the nameless turian pulled his chit of his pocket, with the hopes that his cock might be pulled out too.

 _I can’t believe we’re doing this_ , Shepard thought excitedly. Her head was buzzing, with both arousal and alcohol. How many times had she thought of Garrus to bring herself off, alone in her bed looking through the skylight in her cabin? Too many times to count, if she was honest.

Shepard squeezed his hand, felt Garrus squeeze back. The realization that this wasn’t some fantasy that left her wet and unsatisfied on the covers of her bed was starting to sink in. This was happening. They crossed the crowded dancefloor, and Shepard had no patience for the curious multi-species hands that pressed against her body, and even less tolerance for the same hands that reached out to touch Garrus. She wanted to snap all their fingers. Shepard had no idea if they would ever do this again, but for the moment Garrus was _hers_.

They made it to the dim, private room without incident. Shepard watched Garrus lock the door behind them, shutting out the chatter and music. She could still hear it, but only faintly. The lighting in this space was similar to that of the rest of the club. Almost too dark, with red luminescence. Her point of vision was solely focused on Garrus, who rushed into her view and scooped her up. She’d never been so aware of their height difference before. Her feet weren’t even touching the floor, supported by his strong arms.

Garrus nipped at her mouth, seeking entrance again. Shepard eagerly accepted his offer, wrapping her arms around his neck. She felt him pulling at her armor, through the passion of their fervent kissing. Garrus tugged at the bindings of ceramic plating with his free hand. The other was under her ass, still holding her to against his body. The seals came away easily under his skilled fingers, as did her armaments. She was soon left in her plain, black undersuit.

Garrus carefully placed her back down to the ground.

Shepard reached for him, wanting to rid him of his own hardsuit. She was curious to know what he might look like under this blue and black armor. But, before she could start to undress him Garrus pushed her back on to the table. It didn’t wobble, stabilized by the bolts that held it firmly into the floor. Nothing would kill a stripper’s performance like a breaking table, and nothing would kill a patron faster than a weaponized metal table to the skull. Aria kept her bases covered.

Shepard liked this assertive side of Garrus. She was used to having to lead sexual interactions; most men and women were too intimidated to try and dominate her. But Garrus was embracing the opportunity, and it only further stimulated her senses. Shepard leaned back on the table with her legs open, inviting to Garrus to take whatever he wanted, and hoping he would take it _all_.

Garrus tore off his gloves, than moved between her knees, pushing them wider apart. Finally, she felt substantial pressure between her legs, courtesy of his own combat suit. She grinded against him, and sighed. It hardly alleviated the ache in her loins, but it was still Garrus’ body. Shepard couldn’t feel how hard or big he was through the armor, but judging from the way he returned to actions, Garrus was just as restless as she was.

He started to unzip her undersuit. Shepard watched him pull the zipper down, exposing her overheated skin to the chilly air of the club. The suit had built-in compression and support; Shepard never bothered with a bra under it. Her breasts spilled out, as he yanked the zipper all the way down, past her bellybutton to her mons pubis.

She wore red thin, low-cut panties. Garrus toyed the edge of them with his finger, before pushing his thumb past them, running over her clit. He took notice at how Shepard’s breath hitched, and circled around it again. Garrus made an approving sort of droning sound, though whether it was because he felt how soaked she was, or how she bucked against his hand Shepard didn’t know. The rough pad of his thumb felt amazing, and that’s all she cared about.

He slid his thumb lower through the slick valley between her legs, finding the source of it all. Garrus pressed into her, carefully but determined. Shepard could only think that in addition to foreplay, he was trying to figure out this part of her anatomy. Kissing and touching her probably felt just as foreign to him as he did to her. His digit billowed; up, down, and inward. Shepard could hear the slippery, obscene sounds of his finger moving in and out of her, and she loved it.

This was already one hundred percent better than her last dull tryst, and if Garrus wanted to finger-fuck her for the rest of the evening, Shepard would’ve been satisfied by it.

“You’re so… tight,” Garrus murmured. "And, so wet for me."

“Damn straight,” she answered through heavy breaths. Her walls clang to just a single finger from him. She felt a saucy grin on her lips.

Garrus was going to feel so good inside her.

He withdrew his finger, leaving her feeling empty. Garrus used both hands to quickly finish peeling away her undersuit. He dropped it to the floor, leaving her mostly nude before him. Shepard felt his cerulean eyes take her in, and Shepard watched him raking his eyes across her.

“You should take your clothes off too,” Shepard suggested. She didn’t feel bare, or vulnerable in front of him, she just wanted to see Garrus' body. Was the rest of him covered in plates, or smooth? Was his skin soft, or hard? Did he have scars, or was he unmarred? Her human body was probably boring in comparison to his. Garrus’ fingers had thick, dull talons on each finger with small scales on the dorsal side of his hands. It left her feeling curious about the rest of him. Especially...

Her eyes left his face, traveling lower to where he was bucked up between her legs.

“One of us needs to stay ready and armed, just in case,” Garrus replied. 

He was only half-way joking.

“Heh. You doubt my ability to kill a man naked?” Shepard asked.

“Not at all. You’re killing me right now,” Garrus said, placing his hands over her breasts. One hand was wet with her body's own lubrication, and if anything, her arousal was pushed that much higher. He kneaded them firmly, but gently. The center of his palms were hot on her nipples. Shepard had no clever comeback for his quip. She could only place her hands under his forearms, and arch her back into his contact. His hands continued to explore her skin and curves. It was tender, but Shepard also found it torturous. She was already teetering on the edge of orgasm, and wanted him inside her when she reached that peak. Shepard wrapped her lean legs around his waist. She was at the perfect angle on the table to really grip, and pressed her wet cunt against his groin. Hopefully, he would get the point without her having to bark empty threats at him.

Among Garrus’ many favorable traits was his ability to solve problems. Garrus pulled off her panties, and the cool air licked at her exposed pussy. He than sat back into the padded bench, dragging her forward to sprawl in his lap.

She hovered over his pelvis, hands resting on his shoulders. One of his arms gripped her waist, and the other moved under her. He slid a finger into her again, undulating the digit. Shepard rocked against him, and grieved when he withdrew it. Her lament was short lived. Garrus was pulling at his armor right beneath her. He sighed in relief, finally freeing himself from the confines of his combat suit. She felt blunt head of his cock against her entrance, and he started easing her down onto it.

Her impatience won over his caution, and Shepard dropped herself all the way onto his member. She threw back her head, eyes fluttering shut. His length and girth stretched her to capacity, and it burned comfortably. Garrus was bigger than anyone she'd ever been with before. Luckily, as Shepard predicted earlier, she was wet enough that her body accommodated every bit of his phallus.

Shepard heard a long string of profanities soar out of Garrus’ mouth, before he groaned out, “You should've let me play with you more. You're so _fucking_ tight.” He was trying to scold her, but it was hard to take him seriously while he was buried all the way to the hilt inside of her snug, lubricious pussy.

Shepard knew she felt amazing around him.

“So, you've already told me," she panted. "And no, it feels great. You’re just big,” Shepard said, trying to reassure him that he wasn’t hurting her, not really. After a moment of acclimating herself to him, she bounced, bringing herself up and down. Shepard repeated the action, and it was enough to convenience Garrus that he could move too. His hands held her waist, while he started to relentlessly thrust upward into her.

 _So much for riding him_ , Shepard wistfully thought. His strokes were too fast and too long for her to meet them with a promising rhythm. Shepard settled on looping her arms around Garrus' neck, kissing him, and simply enjoying how good it felt to straddle him while he vigorously fucked her stupid. Shepard knew that between their sloppy kissing, she was wearing a positively idiotic smile on her face. Garrus' mandibles were flared out in what she assumed was also the turian equivalent of an idiotic smile. He tilted his head back when she touched his fringe.

“Keep doing that,” he gritted out, subvocals vibrating loudly.

Shepard fulfilled his request with pleasure.

Her world very quickly went from vertical to horizontal, the cold metal table once again on her nude back, the ceiling now in her vision. Garrus had lifted her up from his lap without pulling out of her, repositioning the both of them. Garrus stood over her, using his hands to hold her knees far apart. From this angle, nothing was hidden from his view. His eyes would linger on Shepard's face, only to glance down to watch himself penetrate her. Shepard felt worshiped in the best, most primal way.

Shepard pulled Garrus to her, wrapping her arms around him, letting her hands run up his back. The armor was cold and familiar under her heated fingertips. It wasn’t so different from the set she wore— the set that Garrus tossed in pieces somewhere in the small VIP room. That acknowledgment only made her pussy throb more. She arched her back and spread her legs further apart for him, wanting Garrus to _fill_ her and _feel_ her at the same time.

Shepard heard him make a guttural sound. His hands suddenly gripped her ass _hard_ , and pushed her up towards his trusting. The change in position left Shepard helpless against his cock and ministrations. She could only moan and push her hips up to meet his, enthusiastically shameless. The control he exhibited over her body, only made Shepard want him more.

She could no longer hear any of the club’s music; the sounds of their panting, moaning, cursing, and fucking filled the small space.

Her hands were still moving over his back, when Shepard felt something so recognizable she wondered how she missed it; a stock, pistol grip, magazine and barrel. Garrus would have a bullet in the chamber, safety on but otherwise ready to fire at a moment’s notice.

It dawned on Shepard that he was fucking her with his rifle strapped to his back, and orgasm hit her harder than she ever experienced before. She cried out his name, and clang to him. Her vaginal walls clutched his cock, and Garrus came after only a few more frantic, desperate strokes.

Shepard went limp under him, her arms falling away from his back. She was going to be sore for a day or so, but she knew that this was something they’d have to do again, and soon. Garrus pulled out of her carefully, and with a pained sound. His breath was returning to normal. Shepard met his eyes and grinned.

Shepard was keenly aware of what he saw; her flat on her back, legs still spread, his cum dripping out of her body and onto the table.

Garrus shook his head and sputtered, “Goddamn it, Shepard.” Before yanking her up, and kissing her again.

She took it as a compliment.

After adjusting his hardsuit, Garrus did something both gentlemanly and cute. He gathered all of her armor and weapons scattered around the room. Shepard patiently sat on the table, bare feet dangling just above the ground, watching him. The only thing that Garrus couldn’t find were her panties, though he didn’t bother apologizing for the missing undergarments.

+++

It was a few days later while Shepard sat in her cabin going through her private terminal, that she saw a message pop up that looked like junk mail. The subject line was simply, “You <3”, and Shepard rolled her eyes, wondering why EDI couldn’t find a way to filter out spam in a more effective way. Shepard opened it, wondering what sort of crap had made its way into her inbox. She read a few lines, and felt the blood drain out of her face. It wasn’t spam at all. The message read:

__

_Shepard,_

__

_So nice to see you finally found a man to keep you warm. The show was much appreciated. I’ll keep it off the extranet for now. But you owe me a favor of my choosing. >:) If you ever decided to change careers, I would recommend porn. Human/turian stuff is hot right now. FYI, I could sell your underwear on the black market. I’m sure there are plenty of perverts out there who would just love to own your panties. I won’t, of course, so I’ll just have them behind the bar for you on the main level._

__

_Cheers,_

__

_Aria_

__

“Aria, you’re such a bitch,” Shepard muttered. She almost didn’t click the embedded link at the bottom of the message, because she knew exactly what it was going to show, but temptation got the better of her. Sure enough, it was the security vid from the private room, timestamped, and dated. Shepard watched it for a few moments before closing the vid, and resting her face in the palm of her hands.

__

Extortion was one of the reasons she couldn’t have nice things.

__

She stretched back into her chair, and sighed. Still, she wouldn’t take back what happened between her and Garrus for anything, and suddenly realized that she didn’t care that Aria had video of them fucking at her club.

__

Her thoughts lingered on the turian.

__

Shepard proceeded to go to the Main Battery and pester him.

__

She bet he’d like to see the security vid, and if she was lucky, maybe she could coax him into putting her in another compromising position.

__

Shepard doubted that Garrus would need much convincing.

__

End


End file.
